


Like Wildfire

by Sour_Girl



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Mentions of past abuse, Slice of Life, bet you didn't see that coming, call of duty logic meets real world science, don't let that stop you tho please come and help this man, that's all the triggers I think for this chapter but next one gets HEAVY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Girl/pseuds/Sour_Girl
Summary: You are a promising young nurse, with a fresh degree in your back pocket and a job acceptance letter in your hand. Desperate foranywherethat will take you, even the shady but not so secretive mercenary corp known simply as the Mercs isn't off limits.Imagine your surprise when they're one of the first to get back to you.During your time in their underground field hospital as one of few medical staff, you've met a lot of the specialists in their ranks, but none of them stand out quite as brightly as Firebreak. He's in rather frequently thanks to his reckless fighting style, but when his health takes a turn for the worse, even the unimaginable, will he learn to trust you enough to help him? And, canyoulearn to love a killer?-or-The Firebreak x Reader fanfic, that literally no one asked for, spawned only because I thought too hard about Call of Duty logic one day.





	1. Chapter 1

A couple years back, you landed yourself a medical position for the militant mercenary group simply known as ‘The Mercs’. 

At first you were plagued by all the usual worries that come with a new job, but this time it was particularly about how you’d fit into the unusual environment. But hey, at least the rules were simple; Get the troops up and running again as soon as possible, and don’t ask too many questions. You could do that, you conveyed to the senior staff member on your tour around the makeshift mercenary hospital. Well, ‘makeshift’ makes the place sound like a battered little garage on the edge of a combat zone, which couldn’t have been farther from the truth. This place? Oh, this place was nice…

When you finally got the call to see and move in to the workplace, you were certain you’d managed to get yourself lost when all you found was what appeared to be little more than an, albeit large, bomb shelter trap door. A good bit of time passed before either your own curiosity, desperation, or perhaps plain insanity compelled you to open up one of the bay doors. It was heavy, and it crossed your mind that it might be rusted shut, if not locked altogether, but once it finally did grate open, you descended the ancient stairwell to what would turn out to be one of the best decisions of your life.

\---

The mercenaries in question were a diverse, but odd bunch. Not to say most of them didn’t seem to be relatively good people, but there was something about the anti-government, killers for hire mood permeating the air and sterile concrete walls that put you on edge. 

As you had been told, your primary duty was to the regular troops, but when a specialist was in, your focus should shift to them. Although you hadn’t gone for any special doctor or surgeon gig in college, the Mercs needed all the help they could get, and your top of the line nursing skills certainly made you a valuable asset to the understaffed and frankly, underskilled, establishment. The troops were by and large forgettable. An endless horde of tired men and women, itching to get back into the fight, but the as for the specialists… 

You didn’t have the clearance to learn any identifiers other then their callsigns, particularly since it would be a breach of your agreement to ‘not ask questions’, but you almost felt confident enough to claim one or two as friends. But the only one to _really_ fascinate you, was a man they called Firebreak.

Most came in for more severe bullet wounds or injured limbs that they either couldn’t take care of themselves, or couldn’t have patched up by the team’s Australian combat medic. That considered, the specialists were rarely in, perhaps one a month or so, depending on the individual, but _him?_

After a while, you were honestly surprised the Slav was still alive.

He spoke rarely, an incredible feat considering he was in roughly twice a month. The few occasions he did say anything, it would almost always be just to crack a joke in his heavily accent voice. Eastern European you could tell, but any guess on a more precise location eluded you. Other then that, as one of the few privileged enough to see him unmasked and without his suit, you could confirm to your curious colleagues that the man was not only built like a front door, but also covered in burn scars and some sparse, fire themed tattoos. All these being important identifiers and some health footnotes of course, but as far as _off_ the record was concerned… 

While you couldn’t bring yourself to call him _conventialy_ handsome, he certainly wasn’t bad looking, especially considering his line of work. Must be one hell of a mask, you joked to yourself. His hair was cropped close and his face was fairly clean shaven, all for safety reasons most likely. Meanwhile, his face itself was angular and a little harsh with an odd bump here and there where his nose and brow bone in particular had be previously broken. But over all, it was built solidly as though he could easily shrug off a punch. Though often times, what caught your attention the most were his eyes. 

You worried about getting caught staring, but you just couldn’t help it. 

They were crystal clear and bright blue, a striking contrast to his dark brown hair, and housed inside narrow, piercing eyelids with creases at the corners that were far too deep for a man his age. The looked almost sagely, as though a man this young, who’d seen too much, had all the answers to all the questions you could possibly ask. Sometimes you felt like he could see right through to your mind, calculating your every feeling and predict your moves. Sometimes you swore you could see a storm of thoughts. His humor, his memories, and if you _really_ focused, his regrets. 

“We done here, or what”

You snapped up from your data sheet, mind caught elsewhere in a daydream. Firebreak sat on the examination bed glaring at you, not particularly angry or even really all that annoyed, but certainly ready to leave. 

“Uh, yes. Yes, of course, my apologies”, you managed, not quite adjusted to the gruff environment yet.

Firebreak merely grunted at you before redressing the upper portion of his suit, as well as his protective mask before wandering off to the quartermaster for yet another replacement hazard suit.

You watched him disappear around the corner, before turning back to your work. At this point, you were willing to bet money on your ability to put Firebreak’s visit and procedure info into the system blindfolded. Burn treatment, stitches/stitches repair, and above all, radiation detox. You shook your head as you scrolled through week after week of radiation treatments, before closing out the software. One would think that that sort of thing is what his suit was for, but you supposed the suit could only protect from so much, not to mention a single bullet hole was all it took to compromise the suit’s ability to protect. All that, on top of the man’s preference to fight aggressively and _wait_ to replace his badly damaged equipment…

Had you mentioned that you couldn’t believe he was still alive?

But, what could you do? What you always did you supposed; Smile, nod, and give him his treatment. No questions.

\---

As your career with the Mercs developed, your usual course took a turn to a new normal. You’d attend to Firebreak when you could, but you were roughly as distributed around the several troops and occasional specialist as the few other nurses and even fewer doctors. All that to say, you were more than a little surprised to be stopped on your way to assist two other nurses with some critical condition troops.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to see _Firebreak_ ”, the oldest of the three or so in house doctors informed you. Your face must have stated your confusion for you, as before you could utter a single sound, the doctor rolled his eyes and shoved a clipboard under your nose. Written in sloppy penmanship on a sticky note was a reminder to inform you that you’d been requested as Firebreak’s primary doctor by the man himself.

You looked up, a little incredulous, “But I’m not a do-”

“You’re good enough for what he needs”, The older man held up a hand and shot you a look that all but told you to get going if you wanted to keep your job. Not one to argue, or at least not _too much_ , you were gone within in minute. 

A little perplexed, a few halls and corridors later you walked calmly into the usual room. Firebreak was laying patiently on the exam bed, despite his almost obvious radiation sickness, and was stripped to the waist as usual. He turned his head to make sure the intruder was who he was expecting. You smiled your usual wordless greeting and walked around to his side. He huffed lightly as you picked up his wrist, checking the basic vitals.

“So, the usual?”, you joked, already reaching for the radiation detox shot. Firebreak said nothing, but signed gratefully as you administered the injection. 

“Thanks doc”

You almost jumped from the surprise of hearing him speak. “Of course…”, you trailed off for a moment, collecting your thoughts. The curiosity over why he’d requested _you_ to be his primary was eating you up, but at the same time… Was it really your place to ask? Specialists pretty much always get what they want in here, and besides, no questions. And yet… “You know, I’m just a nurse though, right?”

The hint of a smile on the man’s face faltered as he failed to see the problem. “Well… Is ah, ‘figure of speech’, yes?” 

“No, you’re right, I just… I saw you requested me as your doctor, and so I thought you sho-”

“Bah!”, he swatted his hand, as though clearing a cloud of smoke, “Could have fooled me. Besides, you are by far _favorite._ Everyone else, say ‘Ugh, back again Krystof? Blah blah blah’, with you, no word, just smile then”, he mimed a stabbing gesture, accompanied by a hissing sound, “and done!”

You gave a short chuckle, simultaneously not sure how else to react as well as amused at his sudden burst of talkativeness, before muttering some form of passive agreement. Firebreak laid back, closing his eyes and seemingly enjoying the peace as you cleaned the area of skin around the needle prick. 

_Krystof._

The name bounced around in your head for a long while after the fact. It was rather charming, as far as Slavic names go, though the way it contrasted with his battered appearance and rough personality almost made you want to laugh. But as much as that interested you, you couldn’t forget that Firebreak, pyromaniac and paid killer, gave _you_ a compliment. True, it wasn’t the most _romantic_ thing you’d ever heard, but for some reason it stuck out to you nonetheless. 

Holding back a giddy laugh, you took a sip of your beverage as you winded down in your bed for the night. To be honest, you were under the impression that he didn’t like _anyone,_ let alone would he have a “favorite”. With that in mind, how much more special was it that that “favorite”, was _you?_ You put down your cup, smiling serenely as you fell into a lying position. 

There was a very probable chance that you were reading too much into this, especially considering the man’s english wasn’t the best, but it was nice to have _a little_ excitement in your life. Ever since you signed on, you’d basically been forced to give up your normal life. You were currently living in the bunker, alongside the other staff, and had almost all communication to friends and family cut off, and what you were allowed was under heavy surveillance anyway. 

Most of the male nurses here were nice enough, but none of them could hold a candle to the crazy mess of scar tissue, muscles, and danger that was Firebreak. You pulled the sheets up as you prepared to finally get some sleep. This place must be driving you crazy... You shook your head at yourself, smiling a little as your silly thoughts carried over to happy dreams.

\---

Things went on like that for a while. He’d come in for the usual, and naturally the two of you had more opportunities to make conversation. Eventually, he got so comfortable around you that you swore he tried his hand at playful flirting once or twice. He even called you baby once. Though as you were quick to find out, Krystof had a surprising sense of humor, and you could never quite be sure if he was shitting you or not, despite what your growing feelings wanted you to believe.

But as you grew more attached to him, along with it came your worrying.

The more you thought about it, he _did_ come in an awful lot didn’t he? And for radiation treatment, of all things… Sure, through the wonders of modern medicine, that wasn’t nearly as severe an issue as it had been say 20 or so years ago, but that didn’t mean the danger was completely gone either. Add on the fact that he was beginning to have to come in even _more,_ as well as bringing in the odd issue here or there along with him, and you had quite the weight on your shoulders.

A while back, he had started complaining about sharp pains in his hips and knees. You raised an eyebrow, but investigated regardless. It was only when you confirmed that nothing was broken or otherwise damaged, that you began to worry. Could be tendonitis or even early stages of arthritis, you warned. The best thing he could do was take some medical leave and hope that a break from all the extreme running, jumping, and indeed _falling_ that his job required would be enough.

He complained about it everyday, not at all happy about being kept off the field over what he felt to be a fairly trivial matter, but as his primary your advice was trusted and the knowledge that he’d be safe in the bunker for about a week was enough to keep you placated. That is, until you found out that rest wasn’t doing the job. 

You were given the go ahead to put him on painkillers, but curing the symptom did little to ease your mind when the _cause_ was still at large.

It wasn’t until he nearly got himself killed in the field that you were allowed to do a full diagnoses. And then the red flags were blinding. The symptoms he carried pointed to a wide array of possible issues, requiring you to spot check for the more dangerous problems first, and what you found made the whole world feel silent. 

He’d tested positive for tendonitis and cancer.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when you read the results from the blood test. Leukemia, likely radiation induced. Or so the report read. Sure you could cure it, although it wasn’t as simple and nice as the radiation detox, but it could be fixed for sure. No, the real issue was what this meant. You looked over your shoulder as Krystof laid on the hospital style bed, looking a little bored. The joint pain, you had discovered, predated the cancer meaning that the two together were a strong indicator of a mercenaries worst fear. 

His body was failing him, plain and simple. This wasn’t an issue of age or lack of will, but simply the harsh boundaries set by his own genetics. After all when you’re in the business of pushing your body to its limits, it’s inevitable that you’ll hit a wall. 

_How were you going to tell him?_ Most Mercs stayed in the business until they either were killed or reached a more appropriate age for retirement, and with good reason. Those were the best ways to exit this life, because if not… Well, if government endorsed ex-military had difficulty adjusting to a civilian life or obtaining work, how much more difficult would it be for an ex-hired gun from a rebel organisation, who also happened to have a _deep_ criminal record?

You looked over the patient info sheets, on the faint hope that the information released to you was somehow mistaken. He’s only 27. Too young to possibly live off of what he’d made so far.

Heaving a quiet sigh, you gathered your papers and exited the small side office. Waiting wasn’t going to make anything easier, and so you did your best to force a calm, professional face. As you approached, Krystof turned to watch and read your expression. His mood lifted as he misinterpreted your passive face for good news. He pushed himself up into a reclined sitting position, doing his best to hide a grimace, as even the simple motion caused him pain nowadays. 

The scene reminded you of a crippled animal that had lost the use of its back legs.

Firebreak took a long, but shallow breath as though he was having trouble breathing before. “So doc, tell me good news! When can I get back out there?”

“Not as soon as you think, I’m afraid”, you paused a moment, but conceded that there was no smooth or easy way to say it. Might as well get it out there… “Krystof, you have cancer”. You showed him the report, and he glanced through the medical jargon quietly as you looked on sympathetically, ready to comfort him.

Krystof barked out a laugh, “That’s it?”, he coughed harshly a few times, then chuckled a little as he met your despondent eyes. “Why so sad? Even I know cure exists, so no worries!”

For the thousandth time since you had your first interactions with him, you stood taken aback with surprise. _How could he be so nonchalant?_ Maybe he just wasn’t aware of the implications yet… “Yes, but it’s still a process. Besides, I’m worried about your overall deteriorating health”, you gestured to his legs, then pulled the clipboard back to yourself, flipping through the notes to find some evidence for your argument. But shortly after you sighed and gave up, deciding instead rely on charisma first, and complex medical terms only if necessary as you looked back at him, “Just… Have you considered maybe going easy out there?”

The big man fixed you with a look of mock hurt, “Easy? _Deteriorating?_ Does this look like deteriorating to you?” Before you could get a word in, he flexed his entire bare torso, arms meeting in a U-shape in front of him, in a pose not unlike one often seen at bodybuilding competitions. Caught off guard, but not unpleasantly so, you took in the display and had to admire his physique. It seemed any trace of fat had been purged off of him from the cancer, leaving nothing but coarse body hair and perfectly defined muscle. 

Krystof smiled smugly as you tried, but failed, to not stare. He pulsed his pecs, once each, before finally relaxing. “See baby? All good!”, he slowly lowered himself back to lay on the bed, gritting his teeth but closing his eyes in an attempt to seem relaxed, “Don’t worry pretty face, otherwise you start look like me, _heh_ ”

“Right. Well. I-I’ll get the treatment plan set up for you…”, you turned on a dime, desperate to go meditate on what just happened somewhere quiet. You stopped. “Oh, and you can go”, you looked back to make sure he’d heard you. Krystof gave a quick thumbs up, but otherwise didn’t move, a contented smile gracing his rough features.

\---

As you’d promised, the process of curing the cancer took the better part of a month before Firebreak was free and clear. During that time, he’d lost most of his hair and a small amount of muscle mass. Although he wouldn’t admit it, you could tell he was a little bothered by it all, but you weren’t sure how to help. 

You supposed all you could do was offer your company, but what really surprised you was how receptive Krystof was to the attention.

Once progress was underway to curing his cancer, he was usually too weak to do much other then rest in his assigned ward. Whenever you could catch a break, you spent your time with him. You did anything you could together, with sometimes you reading him the local news or the latest mission report, and sometimes the two of you just sitting together in silence. On particularly good days, he’d do his best to hold a conversation with you, which you were eager to participate in. 

At first, he asked a lot about you. Some basic things like where you were from and what was your family like, but eventually it got a little more personal. He asked what you liked to do in your free time and if you liked working here. But it was when he started telling you about _himself_ that you suspected something.

At that point in time, he’d finally completed the taxing process of cancer treatment and was only being held for recovery. You came in to give him the news, barely able to contain your excitement. You spent a good hour or two together afterwards, with you doing the majority of the talking, but this time mostly because he let you. 

“Well, I’m sure the others will be glad to hear you’re back”, you squeezed his hand, smiling brightly.

Firebreak’s cool smile faltered slightly, but he held your gaze for a few silent moments. Before you could ask after the matter, he slowly started up what would be one of the longest, yet most important monologues you’d ever heard him give. He started small, admitting that he wasn’t too well liked among the other specialists. Appreciated and begrudgingly respected? A little, sure, but always from a distance. To them, he was fairly expendable. After all, he was the pyrotech. If the enemy didn’t kill him on the front lines, then his equipment would eventually, meaning it was probably not a good idea to get too attached.

You tried to offer some sympathy, largely unsure why he was telling you this, but he brushed the comments off, uninterested, as he continued. One thing led to another as he directed the conversation from his squad mates, to his start up in the Merc corp, all the way back to his “family life” in the Czech Republic. The more and more he divulged to you about his personal life, the more it dawned on you what was _really_ happening here.

His face went dark, his voice steady and serious as he went on about his troubled childhood, from the day his mother left, to his sister’s abuse at their father’s hands, and finally to the murder he commited, accidental as it was.

Clearly this was more then the ramblings of an exhausted medical patient. He _trusted_ you. But this… This was somehow deeper then just “trust”. Perhaps even more so than that which he shared with his fellow soldiers. Because, this was a trust of character. It was easy to trust the trained killers on the field to not shoot you in the back over any battlefield loot, but trusting someone with who you were, with all your secrets, even the darkest ones… felt almost unthinkable.

You sat in complete silence, trying to process everything as Krystof finished his speech. He looked over to you, trying to read your emotions quickly, before looking away.

“I uh-, sorry, I guess I got carried away”, he rubbed at the dusting of fuzz that was returning to his head. Krystof frowned, looking legitimately disappointed as you continued to stare in contemplative silence. Truth be told, you weren’t really sure _what_ to say after all that, but at least a part of you was aware enough to know you needed to come up with _something._

“I understand if you do-”

“Sounds like the bastard deserved it”, you blurted out. Now it was his turn to stare wordlessly. You were certain he wasn’t sure _what_ he was expecting you to say, but apparently it wasn’t that. Before you could try and smooth over your abrupt response with meaningless words, Firebreak cut you off, suddenly growing excited. 

“Right? Finally, someone agrees!”, Krystof broke into a genuine smile. He pushed himself up a little, suppressing any expression of the lingering pain his hips and knees were giving him. “I knew I liked you, but I never knew I could this much!”, he pointed at you playfully, but smiled sincerely.

You laughed quietly, somewhere between shy and surprised, but didn’t try to argue with him. After all, you’d liked him for a while and if speaking the truth was all it took to get him to reciprocate your feelings, even just a little, it was worth it. You looked away, rubbing at your cheeks, while Firebreak did a quick survey of the area, a smug grin spreading across his face.

Once he’d assured no one was around, he made you an offer. “You know what? We should have some fun. Celebrate, yes?”

“What?”, you froze, wondering what he was implying.

“Come on, I want to show you something”, he tossed off the thin sheet and spun, jumping onto the ground. He grit his teeth from the impact, but pulled you out of your seat and urged you to follow regardless, ready for anything in his boots, pants, and old t-shirt thanks to the Merc’s decision not to invest in any sort of patient ware.

Whether you were exhausted or simply caught up in Krystof’s energetic attitude, you found yourself willing to see where he’d take you, trying but failing to suppress your laughter l, feeling for the first time in ages like a teen again. You wound through the halls together, avoiding as much night duty personnel as possible, until finally you reached a thick, official looking blast door, just big enough for single file entry. Firebreak pulled out a heavily damaged looking keycard from a lanyard attached to his belt loop and swiped it. The door opened immediately, with no sirens or other signs of breach to been seen.

“This way”, Krystof turned back, encouraging you to finally leave the only place you’d known for the past two years. 

You hesitated for a moment, looking between the night sky beyond the open door and the dour, white cement hall behind you. Though you’d never admit it aloud, this was one of your wildest fantasies come true. Here you were, running off into the night hand in hand with the odd yet charming mercenary of your dreams, and yet suddenly all you could think of was whether or not this was _actually_ a good idea.

After all, how much did you _really_ know about the enigmatic “Firebreak”? You knew he was stubborn, had something of a short temper, and was _easily_ twice your size. Besides, these were all just surface issues, dancing around the most glaring problem. Sure he was nice enough _to you,_ but the truth was... he’s a murderer. Even if you ignore the manslaughter committed by a child who hardly understood the element he was wielding, the fact still stood. Gun for hire, mercenary, contract killer… all of these were just niceties to hide the unpleasant truth.

Krystof looked back at you, standing in a halo of moonlight, bright blue eyes boring into yours. His excited expression calmed down, as though he’d activated those same mind reading like abilities that drew you to him in the first place. He took a few steps towards you, but something compelled you to stand still and let him. “Hey… Is alright, _don’t worry._ I protect you”, he smiled confidently and knocked twice on his chest, before having to cough rather harshly. “Well, _hopefully_ heh”. He smiled genuinely, and offered you a calloused paw, “Come on”

You blinked and shook a little, as though you’d caught a chill. Maybe you really had gone crazy from this place, or maybe you were just so hungry for this kind of human interaction, and with such a strapping man nonetheless, that with little more than a second thought, you grabbed his hand as he dragged you into the night.

If it hadn’t been for the celestial light overhead, you wouldn’t have had a single clue where the two of you were heading, but as you surveyed the area in the dim night lighting you found yourself already enjoying the experience. Warm, night air breezed across your face and through your hair as the two of you skulked across a beat up parking lot, purposely kept in disrepair by the Mercs as cover for their subterranean outpost. Finally you came to a hole in the tall, chain link fence atop a short, cement barricade. Krystof turned and easily picked you up, lifting you over the half wall, before vaulting himself over with a suppressed hiss. 

“ _Almost there_ ”, he huffed, a little winded from running like this after being bed ridden for so long.

Beyond the base perimeter, miles and miles of undulating grassy hills continued as far as you could see. Fireflies glittered here and there in the summer air, lighting the way as Krystof helped you up a huge, grass covered slope. The climb was a little taxing, although it seemed to be more so for Krystof’s lower joints. But the payoff? To say it was worth it, was an understatement.

At the top was a small plateau, perfect for laying out a blanket, though the grass was certainly lush enough for there to be no need. You looked up to see the full moon hanging large and bright in the center of the cloudless sky, amid an infinite sea of stars and nebulas. Looking around, you found there was even more right here on earth. Grass and a few sparsely distributed trees swayed in the gentle breeze for several miles like a great, black ocean with smatterings of fireflies, like small fallen stars spread throughout. Finally, in the distance gleamed the lights of a city. Beautiful in its urban way, but tiny like a gem and almost unnoticeable on the very edge of the horizon.

With a soft gasp, you fell sitting to the grass, arms back to brace you. Never before had you seen anything so magnificent, let alone anything that made you feel so _alive._

Firebreak crashed into the grass beside you, heaving a heavy but relieved sigh. He looked up at you, far more interested in your wonderstruck expression then any of the beautiful scenery around him. Finally, you collapsed back, lying beside him with your eyes firmly fixated on the untainted galaxy above you. 

“See? Worth it!”, Krystof said proudly, panting about as much as you had been before your breath was taken away. You nodded wordlessly, mouth slightly agape as you continued to take in all that lay around you. He turned to lay on his back, allowing you to enjoy the moment, until you were ready to talk. In the meantime, admiring the smile he’d help bring to your face was enough.

You huffed a quiet laugh, before finally turning your gaze to the man beside you, thousand watt smile still beaming from your moonlit face, “How did you find this place?”

“What, you think all I do is shoot and sleep? I have personal life you know”, he feigned a look of condescension, but couldn’t keep it up for long before being infected by your elated mood. You just looked so… _happy._

Your eyes flicked away for a second, breaking the trance as Krystof realised he had been staring. He coughed into his fist, grateful for a suitable excuse to look away. “Besides, I use do this all the time with my sister”, he gestured to the stars, but no sooner had the sentence left his mouth then he questioned how the statement sounded aloud. “Eh, not that I think of you as sister… I just thou- Er, what I-”

You watched him flounder for a second, a small part of you almost wanting to let him go on. It was just so rare to see _the_ Krystof “Firebreak” Hejek act _nervous,_ that you were almost expecting it to start snowing too. Instead, you gently took his closest hand with your own, fixing him with a silent, calming smile. After all this time spent at his bedside, by now you had a rare gift for almost always being able decipher what he was trying to say.

Krystof went quiet at your touch, and silenter still as you sat up, soft eyes never leaving his war torn face. He watched you bend slowly to lean over him, before smiling a rare smile in relief. Of course you knew what he wanted to say. Just like always.

He moved to meet you halfway, but fell back into the grass with a growl, hands shooting to clutch his right hip joint. Firebreak swore frustratedly in his own language. Mostly thanks to the nearly unrelenting pain as of late, but also for foolishly not realizing how hard he’d pushed himself with all the running and climbing out here with you tonight. His instinct were getting soft from all the dotting. This is the kind of short sightedness that would get him killed out on the batt-

All thoughts were purged from his mind, leaving a blank, receptive slate to the rush of wild emotions he experienced as your soft lips met his rough ones. You held it for a moment, as he allowed the sensation that had since been so foreign to him engulf his entire world, lighting up every nerve with a fire of ecstasy that he hadn’t known was achievable, let alone by someone as undeserving of happiness as himself. 

When it was over, you pushed away gently, hand on his broad chest. “I’m sorry”, your voice barely a whisper as you looked at him sadly, with an expression that told him you weren’t saying that for the kiss.

His utter shock melted into a look of gentle understanding. None of what was happening to him was your fault. If anything, if it wasn’t for you, he’d have been forced into retirement _long_ ago. 

“Don’t be”

Krystof wrapped one arm around your lower back, pulling you closer onto him, and tangled the other in your hair, bringing you firmly, and yet gently, back into a kiss. And, for just a moment, the world was silent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, I'm not dead lol.
> 
> Sorry for the wait to any (like one or two) returning readers, but I hope you enjoy!

Krystof was laid out on the operation bed, covered in soot and enough blood that one could only hope it wasn’t all his. A handful of other nurses bustled around him, desperately trying to get him stable. You hustled down the hall, yanking on your gloves to asses the situation yourself. A nurse strode up alongside you, handing you a report and giving a quick run down.

“-they need you for the operation”

Your head snapped up and out of the daze. “ _What?_ ” But the other nurse had already sped off to her next assignment, and besides, you knew what you heard. Without another moment to lose, you tore off to your destination, mind and body going into autopilot. Everything around you blurred as your anxieties consumed you, the highlights of the medical synopsis playing over and over in the back of your head. _Severe blood loss. Critical condition. Emergency operation required._

No matter how many times you glanced down at the clipboard, it refused to change. 

When you finally reached the operation room, you slowed down to a more appropriate pace, half interested in keeping an air of professionalism and half terrified of what you were about to see. You took a calming breath as you entered amidst the overpowering scent of blood and gentle hum of medical equipment, before pulling back the divider.

“ _There you are,_ get in here! We need to get this done _now_ before he loses more blood”, one of the two doctors barked at you, directing you to come take his place and apply pressure on Krystof’s leg. Or rather, what was left of it.

You couldn’t tell what other injuries Firebreak must have, but there certainly _must_ be others if he’d survived an explosion powerful enough to take his leg clean off like this. His right leg, amazingly, was badly shredded and bleeding, but otherwise appeared mostly intact, while his left was missing entirely from the upper thigh down. The fabric of his pants had been cut away leaving the torn, hemorrhaging muscles and flesh on display. 

“Come on, he hasn’t got all day!”, one doctor snapped to the other as one of several surgical tools was picked up to be put into use.

The oscillating saw whirred to life with a high pitched whine. Strange, you thought, how something the size and shape of a household power drill was capable of removing whole human limbs. 

“Go keep track of his vitals”, the same doctor who’d been giving out all the orders nudged you out of the way before directing his attention to the surgeon, “You’ll have to do a hip disarticulation, this leg is beyond saving”. 

Your heart stopped, and all the noise around you fell silent. _A hip disarticulation?_ Considering you lacked an extensive background in surgery, you didn’t know _every_ last detail of such an operation, but you didn’t have to have one to know it was risky. Your eyes locked onto the surgeon who looked a little too much like he couldn’t give any less of a shit about this whole procedure for your liking.

A fine spray of blood splattered your’s and the doctor’s scrubs as the spinning blade cut seamlessly into the flesh.

“Vitals still stable”, you heard yourself say.

You looked away, deciding instead to focus on Krystof’s face. He was deathly pale, but the heart monitor continued to beep steadily. Regardless, you did your best to drown out the working doctors in the background and instead replacing the current hell you were in with happier thoughts. 

\---

After your night with Firebreak, your personal life in and around the medical base seemed to go by in a whirlwind of bliss. When you weren’t dealing with pressing matters such as paper work or patients, time slipped away like water through a fist, every moment racing by until you could finally, _finally,_ spend time with him.

Of course for the sake of professionalism, the two of you had to keep whatever it was the two of you had together under wraps.

_A quick, stolen kiss alone in an examination room._

_A brush of hands or fingers in passing._

_A smile from across the room that meant so much more than a simple greeting._

For security purposes, the two of you technically couldn’t leave the base, but the nights where you could sneak away together never stopped feeling as enchanting as the first time he brought you out. 

However, after a while these little “dates” had to stop altogether. Not for fear of being caught, so much as Krystof’s inability to perform his job _and_ go on all these excursions with you. More and more, he had to rely on pain killer infusions for his joints after each mission to the point where he was called on for jobs less and less for fear of creating a morphine addict.

There was a time when all the lies you told yourself about his condition were enough to keep you from worrying. Then, you were asked to hand in detailed reports of “Firebreak’s” medical visits from that day on. When you pressed a little as to why, the answer was given up easily… Plans were being set up to cut him loose. He was broken down, and where an impressive killer once was, now stood nothing but a broken down human abyss, incapable of doing jobs and only really serving to suck up the Merc’s medical budget. 

In layman's terms, he simply wasn’t worth the money anymore.

\---

The beginnings of tears stung at your eyes as they had all those months ago when you’d first been told the news and in the same breath ordered not to breathe a word of it. You sniffed hard and blinked, remembering where you were. The doctor guided the surgeon through the next stages of the surgery over your shoulder as you prepared yourself for a long night.

Several more hours went into securing the skin in place, keeping him stable, and preparing what little was left of the remaining area to be prosthetic compatible.

Once the leg was dealt with, then began the process of cleaning up the rest of him with hours more of skin grafts, stitches, and blood transfusions to be had. And when it was all said and done, you sat beside his bed as the others filed out for a well deserved rest, one by one until the two of you were alone.

The talkative doctor, who turned out to be the resident robotics prosthetic specialist, informed you that he’d received the news of Firebreak’s termination. He was now, and forever will be, Krystof Hejek a Slavic man who’d led a hard life in the Czech Republic and came to the States for medical help. In other words, he’d have to settle for a civilian grade prosthetic rather than something high tec and EMP resistant like the other, partially bionic, specialists. After all, that was something advanced that would require the tampering and meshing of nerve endings and wiring, which was needless to say, far too much of a hassle for a lost cause.

Your somber gaze shifted to the gauze wrapped hip. There wasn’t even a _stump_ left. 

In the aftermath of the surgery, the final analysis revealed that the Annihilator shot he’d been hit with damaged his nerve endings from the waist down. The roboticist managed to put in an implant to give him control of his leg again, but all feeling in the area was gone. You ran a hand over his sharp hip bone, smiling faintly in spite of yourself at the knowledge that he wouldn't flinch and wince at your touch anymore, perhaps the only mercy to come out of this mess.

You sighed shakily, moving your hand to run through the soft fuzz of his hair, to calm yourself. You were glad to see it was well on its way to growing back. 

The analogue clock on the wall had ticked well past 2 am last time you checked. You laid a hand on Krystoph’s chest and a kiss on his forehead before laying your head down to rest. His powerful heartbeat hammered steadily and reassuringly somewhere beneath your ear, lulling you to sleep.

\---

When next you woke up, it was accompanied with a feeling of falling as you were nearly launched off of Krystof’s chest. He sat bolt upright, gasping as though he’d snapped awake from a nightmare, before immediately pressing a palm to his forehead, fingers wrapped around to put relieving pressure on his temples.

“Ugh, _what happen?_ ”, he slurred, still disoriented from the heavy drugs used to put him under.

After collecting yourself, you sat still, sadly. Looks like it was up to _you_ to give him the news… How where you going to tell him?

You began to stutter something out, but cut yourself off in a panic as he sat up. At first he was a little tentative, but after being surprised by a lack of pain, he continued on with ease. Then, he noticed his leg. Krystof turned slowly to look at you, a calm yet surprised expression on his face. 

“That serious, huh?”

With nothing better to say coming to mind, you merely nodded, deciding instead to gauge his reaction. He nodded solemnly, but shifted to his typical, joking self seconds later.

“Well, one less leg to be hurting right?”, he said with a laugh. He laid back down with a relaxed sigh, closing his eyes, “Anyway, we can always get new one! So, when we do that?”

You gulped. _This was it._ You got out your assigned tablet and pulled up the prosthetic serial number he was assigned. “It’s… Already, ready”, you took a shaky breath, before turning the screen to face the puzzled looking man.

Krystof was silent a moment, then barked out a short laugh, “Ha! Ah, you funny!”, he waved away the tablet, steadfast in his determination that you were joking. “Nice try, now where is real assignment?”

“This _is_ the real one”, your brows knitted together in pure sympathy as you scrolled down to show him the release codes attached to the document.

“I- Ha, _no?_ ”, he looked at you, suddenly not so confident that you were kidding him.

You chewed at your lip as a lone tear streaked down your face. “Your… _contract,_ with the Mercs has been terminated. _I’m sorry_ ”

A silence hung in the room, low and uncomfortable like a cloud of smoke thick enough to choke on, as the two of you stared at one another, waiting for the other to tip their hand. More tears trickled down your face, slow and cold, as you saw the painful realisation in his eyes that you were telling him the truth. 

To be honest, you weren't sure what you were expecting him to do. Be angry. Get upset. Frustrated, depressed, _anything._ But all he did was lay back down quietly, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re telling truth, huh”

You nodded once, wiped your eyes, and laid a comforting hand on his forearm. Krystof nodded his head once in response as a tear threatened to fall from the corner of his eye.

“I would like to be alone, please”, he made no effort to look at you, eyes locked dead ahead, lost somewhere in the ceiling.

A million thoughts raced through your mind at the request. Was he upset with you? Did he lose his feeling for you? He knew that none of this was your decision… _Right?_

“Of course”

You closed the door tightly, chased out by muffled, shuddering sobs.

\---

After Firebreak, now just Krystof, went through the surgery, there was a long road of rehabilitation while the paperwork for his release ran in the background. You did all you could to steal time away with him, if for nothing else then to check on him. For a while, he was quite the same as when he had first received the news of his release: Quiet and unresponsive to social stimulation, with seemingly only the doctor’s wills keeping him alive.

Needless to say, you had been besides yourself. You took the time you normally would’ve spent with him reflecting on the mess you’d found yourself in. After all the time you’d spent learning and growing from one another, the bond and relationship that you’d built together, over a year of having little more than just one another to make you feel like this covert line of work didn’t have to be so lonely, and all of it was on the verge of being lost for good. 

And for what?

You tossed over angrily in your dorm bed. Not _for_ what, but rather _from._ This place. This business. How much easier would your lives be if you both could just… walk away? Well, Krystof had no say in the matter, considering he was being terminated, but here you were, _trapped._

The thought had crossed your mind several times. _Why not just run away with him?_ Wherever he was heading after this, why not just follow? A nice thought, you told yourself, but the reality of the situation was quite clear, and frankly, had been from day one. No one just “leaves” the Mercs. If you ran away now, you’d have to be doing it your entire life. After all, any employee of the underground organization, especially someone as intimate with the soldiers and specialists on the payroll, knew too much to be allowed to walk away.

Honestly, it had nearly been enough to drive you to hysterics. Why were you only now realising what a _terrible_ idea it was to sign up with a gang of mercenaries? Here you were, about to lose the most solid romantic lead you’d ever pursued in your life with no way to chase after him that didn’t involve what would likely result in either an entire life lived on the run or your own death. 

As the weeks turned into mere days before Krystof would be permanently escorted off the base, his usual personality slowly came back to him and now with no missions to keep him busy elsewhere, he did all he could to spend his time with you. A part of you tried to convey that it was pointless, as there was nothing to be done. At first, you didn’t even want to see him. Not out of spite, but simply in the interest of protecting yourself. After all, how could you possibly let him go after spending time growing close again? But eventually you came to the reasoning that it was better to get your final memories and goodbyes in now. 

And no sooner had you made the decision, then came along the solution you’d been waiting for.

\---

It was late in the night according to the clock on the wall as you and Krystof sat hip to hip on the side of a dorm bed. Starting tomorrow, the two of you only had about three days together before he was officially cut. Not nearly enough time, considering that late into the night was really the only part of the day when you could see one another. Krystof had his arm draped over your shoulders, holding you close as you leaned numbly against his body. Neither of you said a word.

Suddenly, you sat up straight and looked around. You could’ve sworn you felt a tremor through the walls. _Must just be bad storm,_ you resigned. 

“Sorry”

“Wait…”, Krystof held up a hand to keep you sitting up, and looked at the roof suspiciously. 

“Wha-?”, before you could get out a coherent thought, a muffled whistling sound screeched from outside, followed soon after by deafening explosions, one after the other. A klaxon and red light that you didn’t remember even existing before sounded off high up on the wall as the room shook violently, loosening flakes of paint and cement which dusted everything and everyone beneath them.

“ _Kurwa!_ ”

If he hadn’t been right beside you, you almost wouldn’t have heard Krystof swearing over the chaos raining around you. Between the explosions, alarms, shuddering cement and steel walls, blinding red light, and screams of terror, you were too disoriented to move, much less be taken aback when the ex Merc all but carried you out of the crumbling room.

Krystof dragged you down a series of hallways as rubble began falling down piece by piece. Soldiers moved in squadrons in the opposite direction with small teams of nurses and doctors following close behind. You shook yourself, catching back up to reality.

“W-wait!”, you pulled back against Krystof’s iron grip, but he didn’t stop until he found a recess in the long, bleached wall for the two of you to duck into.

“I-I have to go with them”, you gestured in the direction that the nurses had taken off.

“ _What?_ ”

You stumbled over your words as you tried to make a coherent argument, but the Slav cut you off with a gentle, but firm shake.

“Don’t you see what’s happening? _We’re under attack_ ”, he gestured to the ceiling, as though you needed to be told where the assault was coming from. You looked at him confusedly.

Krystof inched a little closer, dropping his voice, “ _This is our chance!_ I don’t know who out there, but clearly they want blow this place to _hell._ This is perfect opportunity to escape! If this place survive, they never know who live or died!”

Your mouth flapped open and then shut as you processed what he’d said, “But there’s people hur-”

“ _Fuck them!_ This is about _us._ Forget what they did to me”, he gestured to his prosthetic leg, “What have they ever done for _you?_ Aside from keep you locked away like a prisoner! ...Don’t you want to be together?”

Krystof stared intensely into your eyes, the worn, haggard creases around them deepening as the wisdom, however crudely put it was, made it through to your fear clouded mind. _He was right…_

The lights sparked flickering out once, then twice, before struggling to come dimly back on as another bombing run hit, sounding louder than before as though it landed directly overhead. You tensed up, and gave a little shriek. Krystof pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you protectively as a steel pipe on the other side of the hall crashed to the ground.

“Is this really what you want? A life surrounded by _this_ ”, spoke gently into your ear, raising his voice only slightly as wreckage further down the hall fell to the ground, acenting his point perfectly.

You shook your head vigorously, fighting to keep back your tears of terror. Never before had it occurred to you that your base of operations could very well come under _attack._

Krystof nodded his head slowly with a surprisingly tender level of understanding. “Good, I don’t want this for you either”, he kissed the top of your head, as you wiped at your eyes. “I love you”

The phrase was uttered so softly, you thought for a moment that you might have imagined it. You had been waiting so long to hear those words…

You nodded you affirmation, smiling brightly despite the hell that was unfolding around you, “Then let’s get out of here”

He pulled you in for a quick, sincere kiss, beaming when the two of you pulled apart and raced through the destruction. Together.

\------  
After a long and boring day at the county hospital, you sat up in bed getting ready for the night and waiting for Krystof to join you. To be honest, you were almost shocked that you were able to get a normal job after your length stint at the Merc base. It just felt so… _suspicious_ having that five year gap between your graduation year and the current date on your resume, but luckily for you, your current place was just understaffed enough, and you just skilled enough, to allow you to be taken on. Besides, you were quite certain that having nothing was far better then admitting to having worked for a military group of criminals. 

You shook your head at your own naivety. _What had you been thinking?_

Krystof’s prosthetic leg clacked softly as he lumbered into the room, pulling on a t-shirt to sleep in. He made a clicking noise and winked at you as he stretched his freshly showered body. Even from there, you could smell his woodsy scented body wash. 

He dropped onto the edge of the bed with a sigh before setting to work on removing his prosthetic for the night. As bitter as the ex Merc had been to receive such an embarrassingly sub par prosthetic when life like, black market versions were readily available to operatives of the organisation, the extra care that he had to put into the upkeep of it was just that much of a reminder of how he’d been so easily _thrown away._ It was a whole contraption consisting of the leg itself that had to be separated from the receiving ball-joint socket implanted into his hip, as well as a belt-like harness that had to be unbuckled from just above the socket.

Despite the complexity, as well as having your medical expertise on hand, he always insisted on doing it himself.

You gently hugged his back, waiting for him to be finished, before moving back to your side for your nightly sleeping ritual. Krystof made himself comfortable on his back, a favorite sleeping position from his days watching for trouble out in the battlefield. While he got situated, you leaned over to turn off the table lamp, then back the other way to lay your head on his chest. A simple formula really. He liked to make you feel safe, and you liked to let him.

Krystof wasn’t much for good night wishes or kisses, but that didn’t stop you from planting a small kiss on his cheek or, if you were feeling especially tired, his chest. Usually he’d respond by holding you a little tighter, or breathing out a little harder in what you assumed to be a happy sigh. You counted yourself lucky to receive even that much from the grizzled veteran, and it was for those little pieces of sentiment that you kept doing it each night.

\---

Krystof wrapped his arms around your waist the next morning, pulling you flush against him as he buried his battered nose into your sweet smelling hair. You smiled to yourself and shut off the water, before relaxing into him. He nuzzled the top of your head, smiling just enough for you to feel it. The two of you stood in comfortable silence as Krystof guided you gently into a slow sway. You stroked his forearm with your thumb, pleased that you’d made the right decision in letting him distract you from the dishes.

Sometimes he just got lonely, but after years of learning to rely only on himself, admitting it was something of a challenge. 

“Dry for me?”

Krystof grunted, then moved to the crook of your neck planting some light kisses, “In a minute”. The big man squeezed a little tighter, forgetting himself for a moment. 

Much to his displeasure, the ex Merc had ended up putting on some extra weight as he settled into civilian life. You couldn’t really understand what the big deal was, after all it was hardly noticeable, especially when he was clothed. Maybe his muscles weren’t as defined as they use to be, his abs weren’t as hard and sharp, and he couldn’t pop quite as many veins, but you’d much rather have him like this then on the verge of death from either blood loss or radiation poisoning.

Of course, he vehemently disagreed with your reasoning, counter arguing something along the lines that he was slipping into a lack of discipline. For a while he tried to keep up his old levels of activity, but quickly found out just how limited he was with that leg. After that he would always get so _frustrated,_ and when he was tired of getting angry at himself all the time, he instead was just… _quiet._

He hardly ate, his sleep was restless, and not even _you_ seemed to interest him. During that phase, you were the most terrified for him that you’d ever been in your life. After all you’d been through together, you couldn’t bare the thought of losing him. But what could you do? It wasn’t like you could take him to see anyone. As far as the government was concerned, he didn’t exist.

No, all you _could_ do was all you ever did. Ofer him moments like this. Moments where you could just be there for him, and let him know you loved him too. No matter what. And thankfully, after he took his own time to sort things out, he started to come back around. After he lost his leg, he was never _quite_ the same. Not _quite_ as aggressive, not _quite_ as boisterous, and not _quite_ in possession of as much of a blood lust, but just having him talk with you again was all you ever wanted.

“He- _lloooo_ ”

You snapped out of your thoughts to see a calloused hand waving slowing for your attention. 

“Wha-?”

Krystof moved to stand beside you. “You’re thinking again”, he smiled, despite the hint of concern in his voice, before pressing one more kiss to your temple.

You made a playfully confused face, “You say that like it’s a bad thing”, you laughed.

The Slav stretched, and then grabbed a towel hanging off the drawer, “It is for _you_ ”. He picked up a plate and gently tapped it to your head, then started drying it off, “Thinking make you worry, and you _worry_ too much too”

You picked up the sponge, smiling to yourself, and got back to the few remaining dishes. Maybe he was right, but the two of you had been through so much to get here that sometimes it was hard not to get caught up in those old memories. But for his sake, you did you best to put it all aside when you were together.


End file.
